


Brothers in Blood

by TeaTimeAt221B



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood!Kink, Demon Blood, First Time, M/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:13:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaTimeAt221B/pseuds/TeaTimeAt221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's changed a bit from his time in Hell. Maybe these changes will let him help Sam in his demon blood withdrawal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers in Blood

Sam’s lips were soft against Dean’s wrist, gentle as he suckled at the cut that Dean had made for him. His eyes were closed, his face radiant, almost rapturous. Dean was transfixed. His gut twisted at how fucked up this situation was, but on the other hand, it was amazing seeing Sam’s face light up like this, so beautiful. Taking care of Sammy. That was his job, right? Whatever he needed, as much as he could give.

Sam moaned, low in his throat, the vibrations registering in Dean’s bones and causing a heavy ache to pool low in his belly. He inhaled sharply, tearing his eyes away from Sam’s upturned face. He could feel Sam lap at the leaking blood, tonguing the slit, wet, slick, hot. Dean shivered. Sam moaned again, reaching up to hold Dean’s forearm in his hands as he sucked, and Dean definitely couldn’t deny the interested twitch his cock gave.  _What the fuck?_  Was he seriously getting hot from his brother sucking the blood out of his wrist? It wasn’t like that, he admonished his libido firmly. It’s just helping.

Sam’s eyes opened under his shaggy brown hair and met Dean’s straight on, and Dean could swear that was desire he saw there, all wide, dark pupils and lowered lashes. Desire for the blood, he corrected. The withdrawal was too much for Sam to handle on his own, and he’d be damned if he let him go back to get it from that demon bitch Ruby. When Dean was in Hell, and gave in to Alastair, he began to turn. Though the process was never completed, Dean’s blood carried a slight demonic taint to it; just enough that it proved to be an intense temptation for Sam – and maybe his perfect salvation. Like methodone to a heroin addict, it wasn’t quite the same, but it was a close substitute.

The blood flow from the wound in his wrist had gradually slowed to almost nothing, so Dean met Sam’s desperate gaze and lifted the knife again, this time – daringly – to his neck near the junction of his shoulder. “Here you go, Sammy,” Dean said, and his voice was rough and pitched low, like worn black leather and gravel, like sex.

Those soft lips gently lifted from the skin of his wrist, plump from sucking and shining red with spit and blood. He licked them with quick darts of his tongue and smiled at Dean, a film of red on his teeth. Sam leaned in close until they were nearly chest to chest, the angle awkward as they both sat cross-legged on the cheap motel bed. He breathed in Dean’s scent, the intoxicating perfume of his blood as it trickled over his collarbone, and Dean could feel the breath ghost over his skin, making him shiver ( _a chill, of course, nothing more_ ). Finally Sam stuck his tongue out to catch the trickle of blood escaping, dragging it up to the cut before latching on to it with his whole mouth. This time Dean moaned, twitched, trying to hold back the sound. After a few moments Sam’s legs began to cramp from the strain of sitting cross-legged and leaning into Dean, so he lifted up, pressed closer; finally he settled himself right in Dean’s lap, straddling him with one muscular thigh on either side of Dean’s.

_Oh fuck_ , Dean thought helplessly, his mind fuzzy with the minor blood loss and arousal. _Oh God, this is Sam, this is Sammy heavy in your lap, your baby brother, and he’s gonna feel-_

Sam shifted again, just a slight tilt of his hips, and then Dean’s rapidly hardening cock was nestled right into Sam’s pelvis. And right there next to it, Dean could feel the hot hardness that could only be Sam. Sam, who, he suddenly realized, seemed to be getting off on this just as much as Dean was.

“Sammy,” Dean breathed, voice low and raspy. Sam whined in response, grinding in against him, still latched on to his neck and sucking. And, God, if it wasn’t just everything Dean had ever wanted, in his darkest and most secret of thoughts, lighting sparks across his skin. “Sam wait –“

“Dean, shut up, okay?” And Sam’s arms were tight around him, crushing them together hard and close. “Just let me, please? Let me…” He kissed up Dean’s neck to the edge of his jaw, tongue flicking out to taste the salt-sweet skin. He was calmer now, Dean’s blood flowing through him. Could feel it move inside with every beat of his heart. Where Ruby’s blood made him feel pumped full of power, like a superhero, a weapon, Dean’s blood brought him back to himself. It reminded him of hot summer days in the back seat of the Impala, squished against his big brother with the sticky slide of sweat and skin on leather while Dad drove endlessly on from state to state. Reminded him of sweet forehead kisses and holding hands crossing the street. Reminded him of endless motel rooms, tangled up octopus-limbs and warm shared breath in bed together with Dad in the next bed over. The security of his brother, his Dean, watching out. Taking care of him.

Dean could never say no to Sammy. He let his hands, tentative and hesitating, bury themselves in Sam’s hair, fingertips caressing his scalp. The hair was as silky soft as he imagined, smelled faintly of yesterday’s shampoo, sweat and Sam; and it twisted deliciously between his fingers when Sam gave a sharp nip to the shell of Dean’s ear. Dean yelped at the pleasure-pain, his hips bucked against Sam, and he was absolutely sure he was going to Hell – again – for how unbearably hot that was. Almost apologetically, Sam laved his tongue over Dean’s ear where he had bitten it, sighed softly, then settled back to suck on Dean’s bleeding neck with a sinuous roll of hips. “Sammy,” Dean rasped. He grasped Sam’s waist, intending to stop his now-steady rocking, but wound up jerking him closer instead when his brother released the still slightly-bleeding cut with a wet sound, bit the abused flesh instead. “Sam, hey. Are you sure?”

This time Sam pulled back to look solemnly into his brother’s eyes. “Dean, I need this. I want this.” His gaze flickered to Dean’s lips. They were puffy from being bitten, from Dean trying to restrain himself. Sam licked his own lips, relishing the taste of his brother’s blood, tangy copper rolling on his tongue. His veins were alive with it, humming and singing, his skin craving touch. “God, you… you don’t even know how long…” Sam’s voice was practically a whimper now, an edge of desperation.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean groaned. Hands tightened, vice-grip on Sam’s hips and Dean pushed him down onto his back on the bed, thrust down against him hard and heavy. His face was close now, their lips bare inches apart, breath mingling as they panted and rutted together. “Like this? Is this what you wanted, Sammy?”

With a sudden cry, Sam reached up and grabbed the back of his brother’s head, wrenching him down for lips to finally press together, too hard, and Dean’s curse was lost in Sammy’s mouth at the searing pain of his lip splitting against teeth. Blood flowed between them again, hot-wet-slick, and Sam smeared their lips together, licked over Dean’s mouth delicately, then in, more insistent. Tongues met in a slow slide that made Dean’s insides melt, the wrong-right of kissing his brother destroying him from the inside out. “Dean,” Sam was whispering between kisses, between hip-wriggle thrusts. “Dean, ah…” He swallowed another mouthful of blood and heat pooled again in his stomach. “Please?”

“Yeah Sammy. Yeah, go ahead, it’s okay.” Dean’s voice was low and wrecked, and they moved together now, legs locked like they were each other’s only anchor, rolling like ocean waves. Friction and heat and pressure too much- not enough- between layers of fabric. He reached for the closure to Sam’s pants, knew he was damned now beyond a doubt, no going back, but couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d take care of Sammy, would always take care of Sammy the best way he knew how. He sealed his lips over Sam’s again just when his fingers stole under the waistband of his pants and grasped his little brother’s cock, impossibly hard, wet and leaking. One silky up-down slide, two, more- again- a high moan and Sammy was screaming and coming hot all over his hand, back arched and head tipped back to expose the long line of his neck. His eyes were squeezed shut and lips parted in acute pleasure, hair a messy halo around his head. It was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen in his life.

He locked eyes with Sam as he came back to himself, drew his hand up and carefully licked his first two fingers, letting the thick-slippery texture and bitter salt taste of Sam’s come rest on his tongue while he continued to thrust against his hip. Sam moaned and licked his lips at the sight, then reached up and brought the fingers to his own mouth, twirled a clever tongue around the tips and sucked them down into wet heat. His eyes were still dark with the aftermath of arousal, face relaxed, looking totally fucked-out. “That’s right, Sammy, so good for me, oh god.” With his fingers fucking desperately in and out of Sammy’s eager mouth, Dean thrust quickly and erratically and came too, still in his pants like a teenager. “Jesus, Sam,” he breathed. “Jesus…”

Eyes half-lidded, happy, sleepy, sated, Sam gathered his brother to him, pressed them together chest to chest. He peppered feather-light kisses to the corner of Dean’s mouth, avoiding the tender split spot now. They simply breathed for a while, coming down from their euphoric high, heartbeats gradually slowing and bodies cooling. Dean expected to have a freakout moment, but found he couldn’t. Everything was underwater slow-motion and all he knew was that, in all the ways that counted, this felt like the most _right_ thing he had ever done. Like something in the universe had permanently shifted, and now things fit together in a way that made sense for the first time. “Thank you, Sam,” he whispered, and Sam huffed an almost-laugh in return.

“Thank _you_ , Dean. For giving me what I need. For taking care of me.”

“Always, Sam.”

Just before he drifted off to sleep, Dean might have said, “I think you took care of me, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first fic - in fact the first piece of fiction - I've written in about seven years. I'm thrilled to have finished it and have finally decided to upload it here. Crossposted to [tumblr](www.sammys-beautiful-bitchface.tumblr.com). Comments are welcomed.


End file.
